SOF Ch 69 to 73 Fang's POV
by blackrosepoison
Summary: Okay I know this has been done a million times but you know what? I DONT CARE! Im going to anyway! If your smarter than the average duck then youve already figured out that its SOF Ch. 69-73 Fang POV, but to specify its when Max goes on her date with Sam!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so this is Chapter 69 in SOF and it does go by the book. I'm not one of those people who totally messes up the plotline when they do another character's pov. Not to offen anyone, sometimes when people screw up the plot line they end up really good!**

**Enjoy!**

Either I'm dreaming (doubt it), reading (clearly, no), or taking a dirt nap (could always be true). Why you ask, such a depressive outlook on my life? Well, besides the fact that the only colors on my body are black and skin tone and that I say an average of eight words a day, nothing bad has happened. In like weeks.

When you're a genetic anomaly, sometimes your life just sucks a bit more. When our days are normal, we have to rip a feather out to make sure were not dreaming. Which, by the way, is a lot more painful than pinching your self.

I needed someone to rip my whole wing off for me to believe this.

No Erasers. No Gazzy and Iggy making things go boom in the night. No headhunter having an aneurism every other day.

Actually, I hadn't seen the headhunter in awhile. Maybe he took some vacation time to get a spray tan for his head. Or maybe to get his piece of hair dyed. Man, he really does have a face only a mother could hate. I wonder if he has a wife. Could you imagine kissing those nasty, wet, purple lips right before you go to bed? Oh, God. What if he has kids? That would be just …ewww.

Angel hasn't come home with another stuffed bear. Or a cat. Or the whole freaking toy store. So that means no mind control from her, that I know of.

She is one creepy kid. Have you ever met a six year old, 50 pound girl that could take over the world all from her stuffed animal infested bed? Weird, eh? I mean she's adorable and all and she's the only one that I will ever allow to hug me (EVER), but she's gotten… powerfuller? More powerful?

In my fourteen short, relatively craptastic years, I've gone to school a whopping two weeks. No judging.

Any who, the kid can read minds, control minds, and breathe under water. And what can I do? I am supreme ruler of pissing off other people. My specialties include Max and most adults that try to talk to me.

"DINNER'S READY!"

That would be Anne, our personal FBI agent. What, you don't have one? This one likes to pretend to be our mom.

I heard the pounding of the younger kids' feet as they tore down the stairs to eat yet another 3000 calorie meal. You'd think we'd be the size of ostriches, but nope. The flying takes care of that. Great source of exercise.

Having the same brains ostriches, I can't say the same thing. Did ya know their noggins are the size of peanuts? Go figure.

I heard someone tiptoe down the hall and tap the door open. Max. She poked her head in, staring at the positively appalling (see I did learn something at school!) white carpet. Her hair wove a thick blonde curtain across her face. And as, per usual, it needed more than just a brush threw. I could just barely make out her tan, freckled nose as it peeked out from her screen of hair. I couldn't see her deep chocolate eyes or her full mouth as she asked, "You coming?"

I nodded my head in that oh-so-annoying way that I know irritates her. Hey, I got a rep to protect. I've already said four words today.

"'Kay see ya in a few," she mumbled.

She pulled herself out the doorway so fast, her head cracked against the side of the wall. I heard a muffled _crap_, then listened as she flew down the stairs. But not literally of course. There's the whole 13 foot wingspan, 4 foot hall way issue.

_I wonder what's up_, I thought to myself. Max is my best friend and usually we lock eyes and no what's wrong in an instant. Or what the other's thinking. We'd been through so much together it was hard not to.

I'd been there when she threw up for the first time while Jeb was at the grocery store. We had thought she was dying so we put her in a cardboard box filled with blankets. 'Cause we thought she might get uncomfortable in death. The only thing that happened was a puke covered Max and a really ticked off Jeb.

I'd been there when she'd flown for the first time. Or when _we_ had. Believe it or not, we didn't actually fly to get away from the school. It was closer to what a kidnapping scenario might've been like.

Pretty much Jeb came in the middle of the night and threw our cages into the back of a truck. My memories of that night are pretty fuzzy, but I remember enough that it had been the worst car ride ever. That includes when Max was trying to drive us to The School to rescue Angel. Impressive, right?

Jeb had started teaching me and Max first 'cause we were the oldest that could actually see. She'd never admit it, but I got flying waaay before she did.

I'd been hovering about ten feet off the ground when something finally clicked for her. Keep flapping and you won't fall on your butt. Peals of totally elated laughter had resonated through the small clearing we'd been practicing in.

That was the happiest I'd ever seen her.

So you can understand how creeped out I was when she wouldn't look directly at me. I guess I'll find out sooner or later. Probably sooner. Max didn't like even saying the word emotion. Then again neither did I. But when she had something to say, she wouldn't shut up until we got the gist of it.

With that I snapped my laptop shut. My search for the Mickey D's closest to Anne's would have to continue later.

I slid off the bed and loped down the steps into the huge Victorian style kitchen. Don't ask how I know what Victorian is. I will never speak of it again.

Everyone had already started eating a most likely less than stellar meal of steak and mashed potatoes. Anne isn't exactly the next Iron Chef. Or anywhere close. At all. At least it's better than desert rat. And yes, that's actually a concern here.

I slipped into my high-backed, charcoal colored chair next to Max. I got to watch in satisfaction as she jumped almost imperceptibly. She didn't hear me, yet again. Score, Fang: Uhh… a lot. Max: Zilch.

My food was oh-so-generously already served and waiting for me at my seat. I immediately started shoving food into my mouth, even though it tasted like macaroni made by Max mixed with the solid form of _eau de Gazzy_. I'm a guy and I'm a bird kid. I eat a lot and I'm not picky. End of story.

As Anne ambled in with yet another bowl of mashed potatoes, I tuned into the Nudge channel.

"…and everyone's gonna be there. And if I show up in an oversize hoodie, they might think I'm weird. So I need to go shopping. I need to get her a really cool birthday present, too. If I don't get her one that's legit awesome they might think, I like, live under a rock. Which we sorta have, but not literally. I mean that would really hurt our wings. OMG what if they see my wings? What if they start throwing cake at my new outfit BECAUSE they see the wings-?"

"Tiffany!" Anne practically screeched, "We'll get you a new outfit that'll hide your wings and looks beautiful. If they do start making fun of you for any reason you just call me, okay?"

"If I do can you bring your taser?"

I don't think Anne understood that Nudge was being serious as she laughed forcibly, "Of course, honey."

At _honey,_ I saw Max's jaw clench. She really needed to suck it up and face the fact that Anne could never ever do what she'd done for us. Ever. Anne hadn't changed Angel's diapers. Anne hadn't stolen underwear from Wal-Mart for us. Anne hadn't rescued us from the school, Erasers, etc. Basically Anne hadn't done squat. And there's the whole she doesn't have wings either.

But, whatever.

For the next few minutes the only sounds that filled the huge dining room were six Avian American's chomping on their grub. Food was actually spraying out of some of our mouths. Not to name names, cough-Gazzy, Nudge-cough.

The one to break the silence was Max as she slurred, "Igotaskedonadate."

She said it so fast and so low that even Iggy had to ask, "You what?"

"I got asked on a date," she said nonchalantly, flinging mashed potatoes onto her plate.

My heart skipped a beat and I clenched my fork so hard, it started to bend.

"Oh Max," sighed Nudge.

"You're kidding," asked Gazzy, trying and failing not to spit half- chewed steak all over me while talking. I reached over to flick the food off my sleeve as he continued, "What a loser! What'd you say when you shot him down?"

She looked down and started cutting her steak with great precision. I swear her face turned red.

My whole body tensed as I swallowed cotton. I momentarily stopped eating. _Why am I acting like this?_

"You said yes, didn't you?" asked Nudge.

My heart beat sped up. _What's going on? Why do I care? Maybe it'd just those over protective brotherly feelings. Yup, that's it._ That was my attempt at calming myself down and I was failing miserably. I started taking deep breaths to calm the staccato beating of my heart.

"Oh, my god," said Iggy. I heard him slap his forehead and continued shoving food in my mouth. "Max on a _date_. I thought we were trying to _avoid_ tears and violence and mayhem."

She shot daggers at Iggy that were yet again wasted.

"I think it's great," Angel commented. "Max is beautiful. She should go on dates."

I swear my skin temp went up at least twenty degrees. I was practically sweating. But, Why?

"What are you going to wear?" asked Anne.

"Don't know," she said, her facing turning scarlet again.

My heart started beating really fast again as the conversation progressed. I squeezed my eyes shut really tight and thought to myself, _Why are you acting like this? You should be happy for her 'cause she's your sister. Well not biologically, but like a sister. If we were blood related that would make the whole beach scene after Ari tore me up just… yuck! Then why do I feel like there's an iron fist closing around my chest?_

I am happy for her. I am happy for her. I am happy for her.

Then why is my throat closing up with dread. Why do I feel like punching whoever's taking her out? Why am I feeling emotion at all? I'm Mr. Rock. I don't feel emotion/talk. I feel subtle emotions on the inside and just plain think a lot in my head. Gotta make up for not talking somehow.

That was when Angel cut in.

_Fang, you and I both know that you love Max. And she loves you, too. So don't worry. It's just one little date. It's kinda like when adults say they wanna see other people, but then hook back up two days later. Don't worry she'll love you as long as you love her._

_Ummmm… whaaaat?_

**Okay so there it is. You know what I want for Valentines Day (besides MR7) REVIEWS!**

**Also if anyone has any good story suggestions for me to read, let me know!**

**-blackroseposion;););)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Those darn tornadoes. (mutters) Keeping me from updating. Yeah soooooooooo sorry for not updating, but you know those tornadoes can be pretty silly. Their also pretty adamant about keeping you away from computers. So yeah I did actually have a legit reason for not updating. Anyways here's the next chapter on super short notice. :):):):):)**

…"_Ummmm… What?"…_

First thing that came to mind.

Bull feathers.

_Ange, I hate to break it to you, but Max loves everyone. We're all a family. I know we try to kill each other on a daily basis, but we all love each other anyway. As family. Fin._

_Wow, the rock shows emotion, _she thought sarcastically. If that's even possible._ By the way, you just proved that you do love her._

_Enlighten me._

_You denied it._

_What?_

_First stage of love, denial._

_I thought that was the first stage of grief?_

_Whatever. You loooove her._

_Angel, I'm going to slap you so hard that your AIRSACS are gonna fly into next Tuesday._

I watched as an evil little grin lit up her face.

_Max and Fang sittin' in a tree…_

I pushed back from the table so fast, that little divets appeared in the hard, chestnut floor. Oops. My hands gripped the seat of the chair, clenching and unclenching with a ferocity you wouldn't think possible for such a simple action. My teeth grinded together as all the muscles in my body contracted. I slowly lifted my gaze from my growing-colder-by-the-second food to have it land on Angel's pale face. I might've growled a little at this point, but I honestly didn't care anymore. If I was gonna go halfway to turning into the Incredible Hulk I was gonna do it right. I continued staring at Angel with an intensity that could've made the love child of Freddy and Jason commit suicide.

Max's head whipped around at my sudden commotion. A steely look was shot to my soul when she noticed it looked like I could rip Angel in half through sheer will power. We stared each other down as our battle of mental forces raged on. No way was I gonna lose this one, even if she didn't have a clue what had made me flip a feather in the first place. As I looked intently at her face I realized that I was way overreacting. I mean Angel was a six year old kid who hadn't had much of a normal childhood. She was probably just doing what any average whipper snapper would. With that, I withdrew the anger that had previously lit up my eyes and contentedly continued to bore my gaze into hers.

Hers said, _If_ _you hurt my baby at all, I'm going to get Lissa and lock you two in a room together._

Mine said, _Whatever. Only if you don't mind my breaking a few of the more major laws of the Federal Court._

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her quickly dwindling food. I watched with plain disgust as she resumed stuffing herself with the lady-like precision of a mouse. Her hair fell across her face in gnarled torrents as her jaws worked up and down at hyper speed. If she had even a glimmer of hope at impressing this loser, she was gonna need a lot of work. Preferably including a shower.

You know that prickly feeling you get on the back of your neck when you just know that someone's creepin' on you? I think she got that feeling because she suddenly stopped shoving herself to look at my now placid face. Everything was all good until a nervous expression diffused across her face and she went back to stuffing the vacuum cleaner she called her mouth.

She does know I wouldn't actually hurt Angel. Doesn't she?

That's when I realized I was still sitting their like an idiot with my chair pushed three feet back from the table. I glanced around at the rest of the flock and Anne. Everyone was busily chomping away, not even registering mine and Max's little exchange. Hmmmmmm.

With that thought, I stood up and walked away from my still protruding chair. I marched down the hall and trudged up the stairs, leaving my plate behind at the table. My version of an excuse from the table. We were raised by Max for two years of our lives. What'd ya expect? Backs straight, elbows off the table, sit forward, no burping?

Yeah. Right.

I walked into my spacious room and dove onto the carefully made bed, arms out stretched. Just like Superman. Minus the tights, cape, and underwear OVER the pants. My laptop bounced about a foot in the air as my pen flew up and hit the ceiling, creating a small polka dot mark. I rolled onto my side and flipped open the computer without a care in the world, when the worst thing that could possibly happened, happened.

I got IT.

Name: It. Definition: An itch, smack dab between your wings (upper spine). Remedy: Either wait for it to go away or call for humiliating help.

I had caught the It. And my skinned crawled like hell. Waiting for the It to go away was the obvious choice here because I, Fang "no emo" (Insert last name here), would rather drink bleach again (Yes that's happened before. The whole experimented on as a child comes into play here) than EVER ask for help. Hey, just 'cause I'm 2% bird kid doesn't mean I'm not part human guy, too. We don't ask for directions or help. Ever.

As the generic blue screen flickered to life, I continued jittering in place and occasionally twitching. I pulled up the good ole blog first to get a small surprise.

It read:

**HITS: 128**

Geezum, how did this many people start reading my blog? I can hardly spell let alone form a coherent sentence. Well, if I was a normal human (Yeah right) and a winged kid started writing about how adults pretty much suck as all get out, I guess I would read too.

I rolled over onto my other side. The tingling on my back had finally packed up and ditched my spine. Unfortunately, the whole right side of my body was now asleep and tingling

I'd have to rub my seemingly miniscule victory in Max's face when she got from her big night. I bet she hasn't even spared the blog a glance yet. Even more reason to brag! Mwa ha ha ha.

Wait, I bet she hasn't even left yet. Even better I bet she chickened out. Wait how is that better. What?

Before I could think more disturbing thoughts, I jumped off the bed and sauntered down the hall.

Upon reaching her door, I peered through the crack between the door fame and door, light racing across my face.

Max had on jeans, gym shoes, and an oversize red hoodie. Her hair was pulled back in a messy braid that ran through her shoulder blades and rested atop where her hidden wings laid. She donned a worried expression across her face. Her brows furrowed as she picked an unseen piece of lint off her hoodie. Or a speck of dust.

She really needed to read a teen magazine. She didn't know how to act like a girl. At all.

I gently placed my right hand on the door and pushed it open soundlessly. I carelessly leaned against the door frame; ankles crossed waiting for her inevitable jump of surprise. I lingered a few more seconds to see if she noticed I was there or not. Obviously, not.

Before I spoke I thought, Man, I'm gonna break my limit of eight words a day. I then said, "Just think of it as a recon mission."

I watched her jump about a foot off the ground, as predicted, her wings pushing against her sweatshirt. She spun around, noticing me for the first time and shot me the bird. I gave her the tiniest of wry smiles as she said aggravated, "What? I'm fine."

Score, Fang: Infinity and one. Max: Still nada.

She pulled her hoodie up and caught it between her chin and chest, revealing a sliver of tan bare stomach. She shoved her ebony t-shirt into her jeans and let the sweatshirt drop back down.

My watch shifted back to her face as I noticed for the first time it was a light shade of green. It looked liked Anne finally gave one of us food poisoning. 'Cause there was no way she was nervous. Was there?

I contemplated the probability of this and concluded there wasn't a chance in hell she was nervous. We'd fought Erasers, been kidnapped, and almost died a million times. There was just no way.

Finally I responded with, "Uh-huh. Usually, when you look like that, I know you're about to hurl."

She started breathing really fast and shallow, you know how like when braniacs can't figure out a math problem? Long story short she was freaking. Maybe she was having a panic attack. Or a nervous breakdown.

Before I could move to comfort her (or some semblance of it), the door bell rang. I swear her face turned a deeper shade of green. Her chocolate eyes lit of with what I thought was fear, but then dismissed the idea as too radical. I gave her a sinful grin as we both moved to walk down the steps.

We strode down the hall and steps in tense silence. I think she really is nervous. Okay, now I know 2012 is coming early. The great Maximum Ride nervous? About a date of all things? Knowing she was nervous bothered me. Why would she be nervous? It's not like she has to cook for the guy. That would be nerve-wracking for anyone.

I screeched to halt at the bottom of the steps as she walked on to let 'the date' into the house. I watched as she took a deep breath then turned the lock and suddenly the door was ajar.

She greeted him with a terse hello. They small-talked for a couple minutes until the loser decided it was time to head out. Her tense form visibly relaxed as his arm slid around her shoulders. They walked through the threshold and into the dark air. Just like that, they were gone.

I stood at the bottom of the staircase in shock. My heart had started and stopped several times as the scene had played out. I was covered in an icy sweat. The weight of the world was officially situated on my shoulders.

I think I'm getting sick. Or worse. I swear if it's worse, I'll never forgive myself.

Before anyone could see me in my incapacitated (see more school there for ya!) form, I dashed to the surprisingly expansive back deck and hurled myself over the railing.

What, you think I'm committing suicide? Guess again. If you're the lamebrain that decided to start reading in the middle of a book, well you're a… lamebrain.

I unfurled my midnight wings and they caught like sails in the wind. I pumped them up and down, reaching speeds of up to 150 mph. I hadn't flown like this in days. Sure we'd taken flock flights, but me being the second oldest had to stay with the group even though I could zoom to oblivion at any time of my choosing. In no time at all, I had reached 15,000 feet.

Up here, out in the country, there were literally zillions of stars and the air was like drinking liquid oxygen. Back in New York the only lights you could see were those of the late night office buildings and the air was like constantly swallowing dirt. The last time the stars and air had been this clear was before we'd left the E house to rescue Angel.

I did a roll mid-flight so I was flying with my back facing the ground. The stars were endless. It was hard to concentrate on any single one there were so many myriads of them. The first time Max and I had seen this many stars was when we were eleven and sneaking out for the first time.

She hadn't been able to sleep, so she'd come to me in the middle of the night (effectively scaring the you-know-what out of me) asking to go for a fly. I agreed and we snuck out my window right then and there.

We had flown way, way up above the clouds and were playing our favorite game. Tag a feather. Pretty much tag for extremists. That's when we'd noticed the multitude of "white coats."

You know how stars look white from Earth? Also how we grew up around mutants? We had thought the stars were millions of mutated white coats coming for us.

We had flown back to the E-house so fast, you would've thought Erasers were chasing us.

We found Jeb pacing back and forth talking rapidly into a phone. When we walked through the door he snapped his phone shut with a flap and proceeded to give us a look that could have made the earth explode.

He screamed at us about how we were never to sneak off again, how he thought we were kidnapped, yada yada yada.

Max had been bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet the whole time. When Jeb had finally zipped his pie hole, she yelled, "The white coats are coming!" Like really loud. He had frozen. Then she explained the whole they were in the sky deal.

Jeb had busted out laughing and Max had punched his gut. It was pretty funny. He explained the whole they're giant balls of fire in the sky, then sent us off to bed with a giant cookie each. Just like the Grinch.

Those were the days when life didn't suck and… well we weren't trying to be killed every other day.

I feel like I should own one of those 'Life is Crap' t-shirts.

My raptor vision caught sight of a large evergreen that speared the sky. I swooped down and landed on the topmost branch with a shudder, causing many smaller branches to tumble to the ground below. I crouched down while hoping there weren't any unlucky campers out tonight.

Being up in a tree this high can give you some great thinking time. Or in my case yelling time. Some times you just gotta belt it out.

"OH, MY GOD, I AM SO BORED! AND I REALLY WANT SOME ICE CREAM!"

I know original, right?

But sooo true. So I stood up from my crouched position on the flimsy branch and shot into the sky, rocket-style, causing even more branches to plummet to the ground. I really hope there aren't any campers down there.

When I got up to 747 cruising altitude, I performed one of the oldest of Avian American traditions.

Wing- bombing.

Ingredients: Supremely bored bird kid.

Directions:

1. Climb up to 20,000 ft.

2. Tuck in wings and fall for all its worth

3. Simmer for two minutes then shoot wings out (unless you enjoy becoming a bird kid pancake.)

The wind ripped through my hair and my clothes became glued to my body. I ripped through the air as my whole form seemed to vibrate with elation. There's no feeling like falling towards the ground out 200 mph. Not even eating after three days with no food.

Okay well maybe then, but not anything else.

I was completely alone in my bubble of happiness. No other birds, bats, or random flying creatures. Just me, and according to Max my Viking sized ego.

So you can imagine I was pretty surprised when I ran into you'll never guess what.

**Yeah, I know not the best, but it is what it is. Great now I sound like a hippie….**

**REVIEWWWWWWWWWWW!**


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